Forever Neverland
by jn.v13
Summary: She waits by the window...for what? Has he really forgotten? Wendy had begun to lose hope, and then he returns...but is he too late? WendyXPeter Pan.
1. Prologue

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Forever Neverland:

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Wendy Darling sat at her window, like she did many nights, searching the stars for any sign of the boy named Peter Pan.

But he did not come.

With a sigh, she brushed off her nightdress and settled down in her bed.

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"_You won't forget about me, will you?"_

"_Me? Forget? Bah."_

_He turns to leave._

"_Peter!"_

"_Yes?"_

_She squints against the darkness, his silhouette barely visible._

"_You'll come back, won't you?"_

"…_To hear stories….about me!"_

_And then he is gone. _

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Peter? Forget? …About her?

She shook her head, banishing lingering doubts, falling into dream-filled slumber.

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Peter Pan does not forget.

At least, not for long.

It's just…he's been a bit distracted lately.

There were his Lost Boys, Pirates to fight, Indians to dance with, Mermaids and Fairies and…all sorts of fun!

But one night, as Peter lay in his bed, he felt a tugging at his heart.

He ignored it, shifting position under the covers, but it went on, _tug, tug, tug._

It grew uncomfortable…and soon, unbearable.

_Tug, tug, tug._

His chest ached, and soon, he ached all over.

In his mind came a terrible racking, a pounding like a drum, inescapable…

"_You won't forget about me, will you?"_

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**A/N: And so, the story begins...or picks up where it left off. **


	2. A Heartbeat

**A/N: Ah, here's the second chapter. Thank you to all my readers and reviewers for being so patient. I'm glad to hear some of you really like it..**

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"Uhh…" The eldest Darling child murmured in her sleep. The covers had fallen from her mattress, and she shifted and stirred uncomfortably. She was having a nightmare.

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_Wendy Darling awoke and found herself in a darkened nursery. A cold wind blew through the room, making the treetops sway ever so slightly. And there—at the window—was an opaque figure, gazing intently at her. _

_She could not see its face, but the she imagined its silhouette was rather familiar. The figure rested its head on a fist, waiting patiently…for what? It seemed to beckon Come to the Window and See…_

_And then she felt a surge of excitement bubble up in her stomach. She felt like running towards the silhouette and flinging her arms around it, whoever it was. She knew it, she felt…_

"_Peter Pan!" she cried in utter happiness. It was he, returned at last!_

_Then she swore he smiled at her…and, then flew away. The gasp found its way up Wendy's throat, but stopped halfway, sputtering to a choke. She rushed to the window, willing to fling herself out of it and into the air—into Peter who was surely waiting for her…_

"_Peter!" _

_And with that utterance, she dove out the window, waiting—waiting for Peter to catch her, the body that would surely stop her fall. But her descent did not end abruptly as she had hoped._

_The world outside the window was a dark place. And there was no Peter. It seemed that Wendy continued to fall for eternity, as if there was no ground. There was nothing to hold onto, nothing to cling to, nothing to save her. The only light in this world was a faint glow from the nursery window. The light of the candle seemed to be dying, but Wendy reached towards it, as if it were the only hope for her…_

_A dark figure approached the light, and as Wendy saw, it was the same that she had thought she saw fly away…it wasn't Peter Pan, now that she saw him in the faint light…it was a Shadow. He bent towards the candle, and Wendy screeched, "No!"_

_And the light was extinguished. Wendy felt her every fiber go stiff with cold…_

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"PETER!" she screamed as she woke from the terrible dream. She clutched at her chest, and felt her whole body was drenched in a cold sweat. Her heart beat with a loud _Thud._

Wendy looked to the window. It had blown open. Moving closer to it, she dared to peer outside, holding her breath. She relaxed as she saw the bright moon hanging high in the heavens as it cast a comforting, soft glow over the city. She felt the need to laugh at herself, to shrug off her paranoia and smile for being so silly. But she couldn't find the strength to lift even a corner of her frowning mouth.

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As morning crept over the world, Wendy was still asleep, leaning against the windowsill. Unfiltered sunlight streamed across her still-childlike face, drying the tears she had shed unknowingly. In her hand, she clutched the acorn that had saved her so long ago…and her heart beat steadily under the thin fabric of her nightgown, the soothing rhythmic sound that had lulled her until she slept.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

"That's right," she had told herself the night before. "My heart's still beating, I can feel it under my skin. Even without Peter Pan…it's still beating."

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**A/N: Peter will surely be in the next chapter...tell me what you think. :)**


	3. The Window

**A/N: Oh dear, I'm afraid Peter won't be in this chapter after all. I got a bit carried away, and somehow this chapter was extra long. I PROMISE though, that he will be in the next chapter. And that you won't have to wait nearly as long for it as this one. :) And thank you again to all my readers and reviewers. :D Happy New Year's, and hopefully this one will be filled with lots and lots of fanfiction. ;)**

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Mrs. Darling was worried. Worse—she was frightened. It was ever since that night—that faithful evening when her children had stole away to the Neverland with the boy named Peter Pan—that Mrs. Darling had begun to fear. She feared her children would one day leave and never come back, she feared that next time, Nana would not be there to warn them about the Darling children's stealthy disappearance, and in this, all her fears centered around the nursery window.

So she shut it. She barred it, latched it, and forbade it to be opened. Light no longer shone through the tinted glass into the nursery—it became a dreary place, and the children decided to play outdoors instead. All the children, save Wendy, who remained indoors at all times of day, unless she was forced to go to school or chapel or on the rare occasions she went to the library. She had been dreadfully upset when Mrs. Darling had shut the window—so dreadfully upset that she bawled about it for days. And though Mrs. Darling had felt a twinge of remorse for her daughter, her fear overruled all, and perhaps, her selfishness as well?

The window remained shut for several weeks—but alas, Wendy did not come outside to play. She remained closed up in a darkened nursery, huddled up in the corner by the window with a book, or perhaps nothing at all, simply fingering the acorn 'round her neck and staring into space. And, at night, Mrs. Darling would pass the doorway to hear the soft whimpers of crying, tears that she knew belonged to Wendy. Over a month had passed since Peter had left, refusing to grow up…and Mrs. Darling could take it no longer.

She had decided to have a talk with Wendy that evening. So, when she was called down to the parlor after bathtime, the girl reluctantly came, and Mrs. Darling couldn't help but gasp at her daughter's present appearance. Now that she saw her out of the dim-lit nursery, she truly saw what had become of Wendy Moira Angela Darling.

Her skin, long-deprived of sunshine, was a sickly pale, the light in her eyes had died down—they were a somber gray, almost dull with her grief. A small smile still played on her lips, but it was not one of joy—rather, it was reminiscent and sad. She rarely talked now, Mrs. Darling had noted—and never laughed. This Wendy was not _her_ Wendy—the brilliant, charming child she loved. This Wendy was empty. She was broken.

"Dear," began Mrs. Darling, motioning for Wendy to sit, "I have something I would like to discuss with you."

Mrs. Darling saw how mechanically Wendy moved. She saw that the girl would simply not meet her gaze, and at once, guilt assaulted her. How had she been so cruel? Her only daughter, her baby girl, so sad and heartbroken, and her she was, backing her into a dark, empty corner all because of her selfishness! Mrs. Darling now had another fear: that Wendy would retreat into that corner, folding in on herself, distancing herself—never to return.

It was worse than losing her to Neverland and Peter Pan. At least then, Mrs. Darling would rest assured that her daughter was happy. It would hearten her to see Wendy happy again. She wasn't sure either of them could take so much more of this. No, she was sure now, that if Wendy was happy, she could be happy as well. And wasn't that all that mattered in the first place?

"Child," she spoke gently, as if words too harsh might cause Wendy to shatter, "I have decided-" She took in a deep breath. Was this it? Was this saying goodbye to her Wendy forever? Or just one step closer so? "-I have decided to leave the window in the nursery open." There. She had said it. And now she looked upon Wendy's face for her reaction.

It was tremendous. So few words had made such a change on the girl called Wendy. At once, the spark returned to her eyes, a slight glow colored her sallow cheeks—and most wonderful of all—a dazzling smile shone upon her features. She rushed to embrace her mother.

"Thank you!" she cried, "Thank you so much!" And then she cried. But here, she cried tears of relief, and of happiness, and overall—hope. Hope that Peter Pan would return again and whisk her away to the Neverland…

But now a year had passed, and another, and Wendy still waited for the boy named Peter Pan to fly through her window and whisk her away. During the day, she'd play with the boys outside, help out around the house, and talk with her mother and father—but at night, she'd sit by the window and wish on stars for the thing she wanted most.

And then she'd sometimes doze off, and her mother and father would find her by the sill, and they'd lift her gently—as not to wake her—and tuck her in, murmuring their love.

But on this night, Wendy made her way to bed herself, retiring a bit earlier than she usually did. And when Mrs. Darling came to check on her, expecting her to be leaning on the sill, she was not, and she crept out of the room quietly, but forgot one thing—to light the nightlight.

So it startled her when she heard Wendy scream, "PETER!" in the middle of the night. Mrs. Darling was certain the boy had returned at last, and she rushed towards Wendy's room to catch them before they flew away, but when she reached the nursery at last, Peter was nowhere to be found, but the window was flung open, and Mrs. Darling's heart had skipped a beat. Had she missed them? But no—Wendy was there, dozing on the sill, tear stains evident on her face, clutching the acorn pendant that she refused to take off.

"Oh dear…" murmured Mrs. Darling, and she gasped when she saw the nightlight was not lit. She lit it at once, a little guiltily, knowing the cause of Wendy's outburst, and closed the window halfway, so that it would not chill her daughter too much. She wanted to move Wendy to her bed, but the years had begun to catch up with her, and she was too frail. She did not want to wake George, because he had been working extremely hard that week, and he needed to sleep in. So, she carefully wrapped Wendy in a blanket, kissed her lightly on the forehead, and returned to her room.

Mrs. Darling was worried. And she was frightened. But not because she feared the boy would return—it was that she feared he wouldn't.

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**A/N: Look for Chapter Four soon! :D Leave a review if you feel like it. :)**


	4. What He Had Forgotten

**A/N: See? It didn't take that long...it's only been a couple of hours. :) Peter Pan at last. ~Enjoy. **

**Disclaimer: Peter Pan is not mine--how unfortunate. Disclaimer is also on my profile. ;)**

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"_You won't forget about me will you?"_

The words echoed 'round and 'round Peter's head. They jumbled together and gave him a terrible headache. Where had he heard them before? He lay himself on his bed, the pillow over his head, thinking.

He lay there for what seemed like eternity, but he simply could not remember. And the words would not leave his mind. The racking they made left Peter quite ill-tempered, and he rose up out of bed in a fury.

"Why?!" he cried up to no one in particular. "Why me?!"

He stomped around the little house, causing quite a racket, and waking Tinkerbell. She was very unhappy to have been woken, and spent a good five minutes cussing at Peter. But he did not care. The noise in his brain was intensifying, and it was painful. He clutched at his head shouting, "Shut up, will you!"

Tink took this offensively. But when Peter did not respond to her insults, she looked him over again. Something was obviously paining him. Now she was worried. She flew in front of him, asking what was the matter, and he managed to say, "This voice keeps bothering me, and I don't know what it means!" But he would not cry—not in front of Tink, who was sure to make fun of him for it.

With a tinkle of bells, she inquired what exactly the voice was saying, and he repeated it. She gasped knowingly, but did not want to tell Peter the truth and have him flying off to Wendy again. So instead, she told him she had no idea what the words meant, and flew off, obviously trying to make a quick escape. He would get over it, she concluded. He had to.

But he would not get over it. For five days, he did not leave the little house—he was in too much pain. Tink watched him nervously, but, because of her own selfishness, refused to tell him the truth.

On the sixth day, the words ceased to bother him. But they were now forever engrained in his memory—it was impossible for him to forget them. Not that he forgot anything, and this was the truth—as this is what he believed. But when he looked in the mirror, he gasped.

He had grown several inches taller, and his features were more defined, though in his eyes remained that mischievous glint, on his mouth that playful smile, and in his heart he was still a child—though somewhat changed.

"What is happening to me?!" he wailed, and this time, he cried. It didn't matter if Tink saw. Not that she would have made fun of him now, after all she had let him suffer through. She simply crept away noiselessly, guiltily.

And then a brilliant idea struck him, and he exclaimed, stopping the flow of his tears, instantly, "Oh the cleverness of me!" And then flew out the doorframe—he did not need the door itself, for he was always flying in and out and was one day bound to fly straight into the thing.

All he had to do, he told himself, was to find the meaning of those words. Maybe then, he would be safe from growing up anymore—because he was sure that whoever had spoken those words had been the cause of his recent change.

"To the mermaids!" he declared. Because if anyone was sure to know anything, it was sure to be them.

When he came to the Lagoon, the mermaids were glad to see him, as always—but even gladder that he had grown. The mermaids had always been certain he would grow to be a handsome man, but he had refused to grow up. But they still found him intriguing.

"Well, what does it mean?" he demanded of the merfolk, upon telling them what had happened.

"_It means you have forgotten someone. Who have you forgotten, Peter?" _the mermaids wondered.

"I don't know!" he said, astonished. "If I have forgotten, how am I supposed to remember what I have forgotten?!" It was hopeless! The mermaids felt remorse for the boy, and asked how they could help.

"Tell me everything you know!" said Peter, "Because you know many things, and one may be the one I have forgotten!"

So they complied. And for hours and hours, Peter sat by the Lagoon, listening to the mermaids intently, his face never faltering to a frown, for Peter Pan had no real sense of time…

But it turned out Peter had forgotten many things—for he did not know half the things the mermaids told him. He scratched his head in puzzlement.

Then, as the mermaids told the story of Captain Hook, the Lost Boys, and the Darling children, the voice returned, plaguing Peter's mind.

"_You won't forget about me, will you?"_

_Wendy. _Came another voice. _Wendy Moira Angela Darling._

So Peter dared to ask, "Who is this Wendy?"

He mermaids looked at him in disbelief. Peter Pan, forgotten _Wendy_? The mermaids seemed quite pleased about his question, though. They had never liked the girl, but it was only because of their jealously. Many women become quite vicious over the adoration of Peter Pan. But they told him anyways.

_He bows, she curtsies._

"_What is your name?" he asks._

"_Wendy," she responds. "Wendy Moira Angela Darling."_

Apparently, the Wendy was a girl. The girl he had brought with him to the Neverland. She had two brothers, but none of that mattered to Peter. A strange but familiar scene kept playing behind his eyes.

"_Boy, why are you crying?" asks the girl in the nightgown._

_He bows, she curtsies._

"_What is you name?" he asks._

"_Wendy," she responds. "Wendy Moira Angela Darling." She pauses._

"_And you?" though she already knows._

"_Peter Pan."_

She was his mother, they say. She patched up the knee-holes in their trousers and made sure the boys were in bed by seven, and never, _never, _let them eat the rich, green cake they found around the island, which had secretly been poisoned by Hook and his crew. But Peter wasn't listening anymore. He was somewhere else, in the deep recesses of his mind as he remembered their last encounter.

"_Peter!" she calls._

_He turns._

"_You won't forget about me, will you?"_

At last he knew. Wendy. His Wendy. How long had it been? A look of glee came upon his face as he thought of her, remembering.

But then a more sinister thought crept upon Peter—had she grown up?

He flew high in the sky, not even remembering to thank the mermaids, and headed for the mainland, with only one thought in his mind:

_Wendy._

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**A/N: So the kid finally remembers. :)**


	5. His Return

**Forever Neverland: Chapter Five**

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It was an unfortunate thing, time was. It never ceased to pass, the hours growing into days, the days accumulating into months, into years. It was also a curious thing, for time here was very different from time in the Neverland.

Neverlanders had no real sense of time, for a day only felt as long as it should be, coming and going as it pleased. On the mainland, however, a day was a day, strictly twenty-four hours with exactly sixty minutes in each.

Unfortunately, Peter Pan knew nothing of this, and was truly ignorant as to exactly how long he had left Wendy waiting. It could have been the next day after the last night they had met, for all he knew.

But time _had _passed, and Wendy was now a girl of fifteen---a mature girl, no doubt, with motherly tendencies, but still with the heart of a child and an unshakable childhood love.

She was taller, and her face had lost the plumpness of a little girl, her cheekbones more prominent, her lips fuller, her figure more curvaceous. The changes in her had been so astonishing and so impressive among other teenage boys that a few had actually come calling at all hours of the day.

Thankfully, her father was still overbearing and overprotective when it came to his little girl, and he had shooed them away with subtle threats. The large number of "brothers" in her clan also came useful in intimidating some of the meeker ones. Her mother, who had always wanted her to marry and start a family, was unusually silent on the matter, and Wendy would have never guessed that she was secretly hoping that a certainboy _would_ come knocking at their door.

Strangely enough, her wish was about to come true, as Peter Pan had landed himself in London near midday, and was impatient to see Wendy. His clothes, however, were a bit tighter than usual and it was bothering him, especially with the rude looks he was getting. He was confused by this, but then remembered that he had _grew_, which only bothered him more until he convinced himself that growing a little wasn't so bad, so long as he didn't grow _too _much.

Shrugging, he entered the nearest shop, earning a few scolding glares from the snooty shopkeeper. His expression immediately changed, though, when Peter emptied a small bag of golden coins on the counter, with only one request. "I need clothes."

The next hour was spent--much to Peter's dismay and annoyance--fitting clothes. He left the store with a large sack of trousers, socks, knickers, and shirts. He was currently wearing some of his new clothes, and had gotten quite a few appraising glances and flirtatious smiles from passers-by. He only smiled smugly, enjoying the attention.

Finally, he reached the home of the Darlings. The sun's heat was becoming quite unbearable, and Peter was hungry. He banged the brass door-knocker several times, and waited impatiently for someone to answer it.

Mrs. Darling opened the door, expecting the post or another meddlesome boy. Who she saw waiting on the other side nearly gave her a fright, and she gripped the doorknob as if it would keep her upright.

"P-Peter, P-Peter Pan," she breathed.

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**A/N: Another chapter! (Finally. You guys must be furious with me...er. _) I want to thank all you faithful reveiwers and readers, especially Dorryen Golde, who, despite my hopelessness at updating, came back and reviewed again. :) Also, I just want to let you guys know that I would Never Ever stop a story halfway and Never Finish. That's just unfair. I'd like to think (laughs to self) that in all eventuality, my stories will be completed...someday, somehow. So never give up on me! **

Thanks. :D

Next Chapter: Wendy.


	6. Tears of Joy

**Forever Neverland: Chapter Six**

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"WENDY?!"

This was Peter's reaction when a stricken-looking Mrs. Darling answered the door that July afternoon. She was a small woman, and was trying to remain on her feet, despite Peter's sudden outburst.

Peter was so alarmed that he had remained frozen in place at the doorstep, still clutching his sack of clothing. "Wendy?" he whispered.

The woman before him looked like her, yes, but she was frail and graying. Exactly how long had Peter been gone?

"N-no, Peter," said Mrs. Darling, trying to explain. "I'm Mrs. Darling."

"Y-y-you're M-M-ARRIED?!" he exclaimed, disbelieving.

Just then, a beanpole of a man came to the doorway, placing a hand on the woman's shoulder to steady her. "What's the matter, dear?" he asked, only to see the boy on the porch, staring.

Peter eyes widened in surprise as he stumbled backwards. All happy thoughts escaped him, forbidding a quick getaway. He couldn't believe it. Wendy--_his _Wendy--was _married_! To a _husband_!

Situation forgotten, Peter sat on the step and cried. He was bawling like the small child he was at heart, feeling betrayed and hurt and hopelessly sad. She had _grown up_. Without him. If only he hadn't forgotten her…Peter began to regret everything--leaving her, coming back. He didn't want to see her now--grown up when he was still a child. He didn't want to see her with a _man_, a man he had refused to be so many times, though now he was wishing he _was_...

"Boy, why are you crying?" came a girl's voice, a sweet melodic sound ringing in his ears, a familiar question…

Peter looked up through his tears, and sure enough, it was _Wendy_. _His _Wendy. Immediately, the tears vanish behind a swipe of the hand, and Peter was on his feet, bowing low to the girl before him. Knowing her manners, the girl curtsies, and offers him a smile.

"Wendy." he breathes.

"Peter Pan…"

And then, she flung herself at him, like all those times she had dreamed, capturing him in her arms and not wanting to let go, afraid that if she did, he would never return.

He was a bit surprised by this…this thing that was happening, but it felt _good_, and his heart beat steadily in his chest, and he felt _right_. He pulled away after a bit, and looked at her face, shining with tears.

"Girl, why are you crying?" he asks quietly, wiping them away with his thumb, gently, one by one. She was smiling--such a radiant smile--but her face was wet, and he didn't like seeing her this way. He felt as if he were going to burst into tears himself…

For once, he felt weak.

"I'd thought you'd forgotten," said the girl in his arms.

For once, he was ashamed.

"I had," he spoke softly, not wanting her to hear, but knowing she would. "But I remembered, Wendy. I came back."

The girl's eyes only filled with more tears, and Peter didn't know what to do.

"Wendy, please don't cry," he pleaded. "Please don't cry. I don't like seeing you sad."

"Oh, Peter," she said. "I'm not crying because I'm sad. I'm crying because I'm _happy_."

Peter did not understand the logic in this at first, but reasoned if you were extremely sad you would cry, and if you were very mad, you could cry also. So it made perfect sense that if you were _happy_ the chance of tears were great. He smiled, knowing that Wendy wasn't sad or angry with him, and embraced her again.

"Um, Wendy?" asked Peter, a bit shyly. "What is this?"

"What is what?" she murmured into his chest.

"_This._" he said, enveloping her more securely as to show her what he meant.

"Oh." she said, this time, a bit flustered, for they had been standing there in the middle of the entryway for quite some time, the whole of the Darling family surrounding them with dumbfounded faces. "It's called 'hugging.'"

"Hugging," repeated Peter. He rather liked it.

Peter crowed, flying to the ceiling. "Oh the cleverness of me!" he shouted to all that would hear, only to land back down again in front of Mr. and Mrs. Darling, succumbing to another bow.

"Hullo, Mister and Missus," he greeted, now offering a hand to which Mr. Darling shook uneasily. "Do you happen to have any food?"

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**A/N: That was a rather quick update, don't you think? Don't expect them all to be like this, though...the last one was so unfairly short, and I felt like another quick chapter would even it out...I'd probably update Friday at the earliest...Leave a review if you'd like~**

Thanks! :D

Next chapter: The Darlings' Reaction.


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